Cantalopafobia
"This is what happened," he starts explaining, looking through his slightly tilted open fingers, both hands squared toward an imaginary scene.
"As a child, he must have been hiding in a closet, when the teenagers were playing around in the living room. Maybe they began innocently, but quickly it turned into a deadly encounter."
We listen anxiously, not wanting to take another breath afraid we will miss a word of the solution to the question we have pondered for years. What happened?
"Hiding in that tiny room, afraid to take a breath, he waited, listened, and watched what was happening, undetected by the pair of teens in the room beyond that door."
In this pantry his mother stored the dry goods, the canned goods, the bags of sugar, boxes of cereal they stored for later use that she would buy with coupons she cut from the Sunday paper. She also went to the Farmers' Market and bought fruits and vegetables to make sure her family ate balanced, nutritious meals. The only exit was through the living room where the teens were. He had to wait and watch.
His brother would kill him if he know he was eavesdropping on him and his girl. They went from playing, to serious kissing. He could not watch. It was so yucky. Then it happened. She yelled, "NO!" His brother would not stop, and she grabbed for something. What was it? It was big and hard, and round, and it came crashing down, making a hollow sound, forever traumatizing that child hidden in the closet.
"Yes, that little boy, now grown up, will forever, be traumatized, relating his horrid experience of hiding in the closet, seeing his brother oozing orange cantaloupe flesh and juice and associating that with unsuccessful relationships. That is why he will never eat a cantaloupe. Even the smell of a ripe one at Kroger's makes him have a panic attack as he runs from a woman."
NOW we understand!
"Mom, you watch too much 'Monk' I just don't like melons. Give it a rest."
"Right..."
"As a child, he must have been hiding in a closet, when the teenagers were playing around in the living room. Maybe they began innocently, but quickly it turned into a deadly encounter."
We listen anxiously, not wanting to take another breath afraid we will miss a word of the solution to the question we have pondered for years. What happened?
"Hiding in that tiny room, afraid to take a breath, he waited, listened, and watched what was happening, undetected by the pair of teens in the room beyond that door."
In this pantry his mother stored the dry goods, the canned goods, the bags of sugar, boxes of cereal they stored for later use that she would buy with coupons she cut from the Sunday paper. She also went to the Farmers' Market and bought fruits and vegetables to make sure her family ate balanced, nutritious meals. The only exit was through the living room where the teens were. He had to wait and watch.
His brother would kill him if he know he was eavesdropping on him and his girl. They went from playing, to serious kissing. He could not watch. It was so yucky. Then it happened. She yelled, "NO!" His brother would not stop, and she grabbed for something. What was it? It was big and hard, and round, and it came crashing down, making a hollow sound, forever traumatizing that child hidden in the closet.
"Yes, that little boy, now grown up, will forever, be traumatized, relating his horrid experience of hiding in the closet, seeing his brother oozing orange cantaloupe flesh and juice and associating that with unsuccessful relationships. That is why he will never eat a cantaloupe. Even the smell of a ripe one at Kroger's makes him have a panic attack as he runs from a woman."
NOW we understand!
"Mom, you watch too much 'Monk' I just don't like melons. Give it a rest."
"Right..."
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